


By Chance

by themantlingdark



Series: Mistakes and Accidents [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themantlingdark/pseuds/themantlingdark
Summary: please don't comment or repost.





	By Chance

1 Ice

 

Thor opens his eyes and Loki is just there. Pale and slender, spread out across the mattress as though he fell there from the sky.

Phanuel, Thor thinks. Or maybe Thoth. A refugee from someone's pantheon at any rate.

And it feels so strange. Like waking up and finding a jaguar beside you in your quiet rural bedroom in Ohio: impossible. It's beautiful and baffling, and a bit alarming.

They never had a chance to get used to this. They couldn't risk sleeping in the same bed at night through high school because if, for some reason, their parents came in in the middle of the night, they'd be busted. And they were apart through almost all of college, only able to make weekend trips to see each other. And they spent hardly any of that time sleeping, because they couldn't bear the thought of missing it - of letting it pass with their eyes closed. They both went home for Christmas break, but then they were stuck with the same problem from high school. They worked through their summers.

So Thor watches his brother, fragile and defenseless, sleeping on the half of the bed Thor never used - the one that corresponds to the position of his brother's bed in their old room – and wonders, What the hell do we do now?

By some unspoken agreement they push serious conversations and the ramifications of sharing living space to the backs of their minds and deal with more pressing needs.

Thor has gone five years without significant physical contact.

Loki had the sense to get massages. Thor's just been living on his memories and the brush of his own skin. Cannibalizing himself with slow strokes of his hand and pushes from his third finger. He's kissed his own arms and shoulders more times than he'll ever admit. He wanted to buy a dildo but couldn't bring himself to do it. It felt like settling. Like admitting defeat. Like planning to be alone. But, God, how he wanted it.

Every Thursday Thor told himself, Tomorrow I'll go to that bar Sif keeps going on about. I'll practice flirting at least. And every Friday night he'd tell himself he was too tired. That he'd go tomorrow night when he'd had a chance to relax a bit first. And Saturday night would arrive and he'd put on nice dark jeans and suede wingtips and a poplin shirt. He'd shave and comb his hair and start diving toward the city. And he'd pull off at the grocery store. Or the hardware store. Or the liquor store. Or the Dairy Queen. And he'd turn every head in the building, smile and thank his cashier, and go home to make himself a pizza, or fix a drafty window, or have a couple beers and watch a movie.

And he'd wake with his own semen dry on his chest, his breath gone stale with the taste of his brother's name, and the bed empty beside him. And he'd add another night spent alone to the tally in his head.

Both of the brothers have been thinking about the things they've missed the most and they make a point of giving each other as much of them as they can.

Kissing is at the top of the list. You can make yourself come, but you can never kiss yourself on the mouth. Or the neck. Or the inside of your thigh.

Blowjobs are a close second. They each missed giving them as much as getting them. They missed the surprise of it: that when they were on their backs with their cocks waving in the air, vulnerable and exposed, they felt safe. They expected to feel nervous and self conscious. But few things have ever made either of them feel more completely welcome and wanted. And they both love the scent. The tangy, musky, salty-sweet perfume floating up from a thatch of curls. The fit. The texture. The taste. The intimacy of it. The way it engages all their senses.

They barely leave Thor's room for three days. They eat and shower and Thor runs over to their parents' house to feed the horses while Loki cooks breakfast. When Thor gets back, they eat and check their e-mail to see if anything urgent needs attention. Luck seems to be favoring them: nothing to do.

They tear off their clothes and go back to bed.

Loki sits astride Thor's lap and they spend ages running their fingertips over the fine bones and delicate skin of the face. Along the edge of the jaw. Down the side of the neck. Over the hollows of the throat and collarbones.

Their lips follow the path set out by their fingers until they've kissed everything in reach.

Thor tugs Loki down on top of him and whispers, “Please.” And Loki murmurs, “Love to,” into the red curve of Thor's ear.

Loki wanders off to get a towel – one of his own, because they're old and battered anyway; Thor's are nice and fluffy, and this won't do them any good.

Thor sits up and pulls lube and tissues out of his nightstand.

They get themselves settled and Loki slathers the thick liquid onto his skin. Thor already has his legs up in the air. Loki smiles and paints Thor's anus with lubricant, rubbing the lengths of his fingers slowly back and forth over it, pushing on Thor's perineum, dipping back down and swirling cool fingertips slowly around the tiny twitching opening.

“I'm ready,” Thor says.

“You couldn't be,” Loki murmurs. “Breathe.”

Loki keeps rubbing and Thor does as he's told. When Loki can feel the tension in Thor starting to slacken, he drizzles more lube onto Thor's hole and finally climbs up to kneel over him. He lines himself up and whispers, “Ready?” and Thor nods. Loki is carefully easing the head in when Thor grabs his hips, slams them down, and opens his mouth wide over Loki's neck.

Loki shouts as his cock is swallowed up in heat and pressure.

“How the hell do you do that?” Loki gasps, and Thor just hums and shrugs beneath him before winding around him like a vine.

Thor has always been good at this. He got Loki's cock all the way in his ass on his first try. They assumed it was just because they were overzealous with the lube. But then Loki went to try it and it wasn't the same at all. He couldn't bring himself to bear down: it didn't make sense to him - why would he go through the motion meant to push something out of his body when he wanted to put something into it? And Thor was afraid to hurt him and wouldn't force it.

Thor hovered over him, warm and happy, brow furrowed in concentration, lips curved in a smile. The head of his cock tickled Loki's hole and felt wonderful, but when he pressed in, the flesh didn't budge.

Thor shook his head and apologized and laid back down beside his brother. And Loki crumpled in Thor's arms, sweating and miserable, shaking with tears, furious with his body for refusing to give this to him. For failing him in yet another way. The stupid thing was always getting older, getting sore, getting colds, getting bruises. I've seen the things that come out of that goddamned hole, so I know for a fucking fact Thor's cock can fit in there, Loki thought, frustrated and sad.

Loki had wondered how their bodies could be so different. Thor had opened so beautifully beneath him. And he'd enjoyed himself - the look on Thor's face had been lovely. The way he'd hummed and his eyelids had fluttered. Loki just wanted that. He'd already come. He only wanted Thor close. Too much to ask, it seemed.

Loki hadn't tried it again. He hadn't wanted to risk further disappointment. But now he thinks he might like to give it another shot. They have more time. He's done more research.

Thor is gasping and writhing beneath him. His face is marvelous – mouth open in an inviting O, eyes closed, nostrils wide. He's got one arm between them, stroking himself. He's starting to pant and groan in that way that Loki knows means he's getting close. Loki keeps up his rhythm and soon Thor's ass is getting even tighter around him and Loki's face is mirroring his brother's.

Afterward, they collapse, panting and lightly sleeping for ten minutes before they sigh and set to disentangling themselves. They wipe off their chests and throw the towel in the hamper. Thor holds a tissue to his ass as they walk to the bathroom so he doesn't dribble lube and semen onto the floor. Loki has his penis wrapped in tissue like a mummy.

They're not shy about their bodies.

In college Thor once asked Loki if it bothered him that they rarely gave each other any privacy – even in the bathroom. If Loki thought they were losing something.

Loki shook his head and said he liked it. That the thousand failings of his form were made more bearable because Thor didn't shy from them. Because Thor's body shared them.

And they weren't rude about it, they just refused to be needlessly inconvenienced or to make themselves miserable. If they ate a bunch of bean burritos and drank too much pop at dinner, they simply cracked the window in their room that night and lamented that the best foods always cause the worst gas. They weren't about to hold it all in and give themselves belly aches, or run to the bathroom every five minutes to hide their farts. It was more amusing to lie there in the dark and giggle like children at the ludicrous sounds their butts were making and then fall asleep, comfortable and happy.

They grew up without barriers between them. They didn't bother to erect any when their relationship took a sexual turn.

They shower and brush their teeth and climb into bed, lying together in a heap with the cat at their feet.

“What do you think about when you space out in the bathroom?” Thor asks.

“Is it that obvious?” Loki laughs.

“You should see yourself. You look hypnotized.”

“Stories, usually,” Loki says. “Dialogue, most of the time. Running through it and trying to streamline it. I've noticed you still space out during breakfast.”

“Yeah, but half the time I'm not even thinking anything.”

“You always were a bit zen,” Loki teases, and Thor huffs a laugh.

Loki's phone wakes him the next morning and doesn't let him go. He has to plug it in and stand at the kitchen counter with his laptop, working all day. He's assisting his replacement with her transition into his position. She held off for as long as she could to let him get settled – for which he is enormously grateful - but now deadlines are approaching, so Loki has to get back to work for a while.

This is the slow season for Thor. Galleries are busy in summer, fall, and early winter – people decorating their new homes or buying Christmas gifts. Thor spends the first half of the year designing and building new pieces, but he doesn't have quite as many orders or commissions – clients are waiting to see what his next body of work will look like and whether it will fit in with their aesthetic.

Thor listens to music and sketches out concepts for new jewelry. He wonders if the stereo is muffling the sound of a cab pulling into his driveway and the door closing and his brother leaving him. He doesn't let himself go to the house to check.

Loki is finally free at five thirty. He sprints from the back door to the barn to cut down on the time he spends in the cold winter air and finds Thor bent over a drafting table, drawing. He peeks over his brother's shoulder and kisses the top of his head, breathing in deeply to catch the scent of Thor's hair.

“I have one of the brooches from your last collection,” Loki admits.

“Which one?”

“The spiky gold one with the emerald.”

“Mmmm. Everything okay in New York?” Thor asks.

“Yeah. It's just a lot for her to absorb all at once. She's getting it, though.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

Thor makes them margherita pizzas and afterward Loki takes his arm.

“I really do want the tour,” he says, and Thor nods.

“You've seen the kitchen and the dining room and the living room. I don't think you've seen the library, unless you've been snooping.”

“I've been attached to your cock for three days and you know it,” Loki says, and Thor smirks.

He takes Loki to the door past the stairs.

The library is small, but cozy. The left wall is lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, and the back and right walls only break from bookshelves to allow for windows. Loki stares at the titles. Every subject imaginable. Tons of art books. Everything is organized by subject and author's last name, or artist's name if it's a bio or catalog. Loki makes a note to spend more time in here later.

“You have all my novels,” Loki gasps when he gets to the back of the room. “And all my poems. How did you even find half of these?”

Thor smiles shyly but doesn't say anything.

They go upstairs.

“Just the two bedrooms and the bathroom on this floor. Nothing new here," Thor shrugs.

“I'm glad they didn't try to cram in three smaller bedrooms and a dinky bath,” Loki says, and Thor nods.

The two bedrooms and bath are all enormous, and it's wonderful – there's enough room for them to walk abreast through the rooms.

Thor goes down the hall to what Loki had assumed was a closet, opens the door, and walks inside. There's a full size staircase. Loki follows him up to an enormous attic.

“Holy shit,” Loki marvels. "From the outside it seems so small.”

“'It's bigger on the inside,'” Thor winks, and Loki rolls his eyes and smiles.

It's dark outside now, but the windows at either end of the room are large. Loki imagines it would be bright up here in the daylight. Thor has a couple of box fans and some camping gear in one corner, but other than that the space is empty.

Thor leads Loki back down to the ground floor, opens the door that's under the steps, and walks down into the basement.

Thor had it finished when he bought the house. He painted the walls white to brighten the space. His TV and laundry room are down here. He didn't want to put the television upstairs – he wanted to use all the well-lit wall space for paintings. There are weights, balance balls, and kettlebells in one corner. Cabinets for storing the paperwork generated by his business and a desk for dealing with it. 

The tufted couch from their playroom is down here, too. Odin turned Thor's old room into a sewing studio for Frigga a few years ago. She's been getting back into it again after a long absence. She hadn't seen any clothes she liked and finally gave up and decided she'd have to make what she wanted herself.

Frigga had asked them both what they wanted to do with their old toys. Thor said he'd give his to Volstagg's kids, and Frigga mentioned that to Loki, who said they could do the same with his things. So Thor drove over to his friend's house with the back of his truck full of toys and the expression on the kids' faces let him know he had chosen a good home for these treasures.

He kept a few things, though. Some plastic farm animals and dinosaurs. A horse Loki used to draw over and over. They're on the shelves in Thor's library. Frigga kept the matching plush rabbits the twins carried with them everywhere for three years.

Loki peruses the shelves of dvds and blu-rays.

“Where are all of my movies?”

“Still at Mom and Dad's.”

“You didn't take them?” Loki asks.

“They're not mine.”

“We should go get them.”

Thor nods and they flop down on the couch.

“Do they know you're in town?” Thor asks, because it has just occurred to him that they haven't gone over for dinner, or left notes sayinghello, or spoken to their parents on the phone since Loki got here.

“No.”

“How could you come back home without telling them?” Thor boggles.

“I figured there was a pretty good chance you'd just stuff my ass onto a plane and ship me back to New York.”

Thor sighs and rubs his eyes.

“When are you going to tell them?”

“I dunno,” Loki murmurs, pushing his hair off his face. “When I figure out what to say.”

They watch Stand By Me, and it leaves them melancholy. To cheer themselves up, they make out like they did when they were seventeen. The couch still has that same scent of leather, cotton, and the air in their parents' house. It's like going back in time.

They tug each other's pants down and take turns.

Thor bends his face to Loki's lap, licking and kissing the head of his cock. It's been almost twenty-four hours since either of them has showered. Thor loves it. Loki's skin is salty and humid after a day in clothes. Thor is immersed in the scents of musk and sweat and sex. His world narrows to the plump heated flesh stretching his lips, the taste of his brother's body, the moans and sighs escaping Loki's lips, the dark thicket of curls, the pale skin painted blue by the light from the television, the hips bucking beneath him, and the come spurting down his throat and dribbling onto his tongue.

Loki rests a moment and then slips to his knees and tosses his head, wordlessly instructing Thor to stand.

Thor obeys and Loki reaches up to drag Thor's jeans the rest of the way down so that he can step out of them. Loki's own jeans are still bunched halfway down his thighs. His cock is soft and shiny between his legs. His eyelids are low. Thor can't stop staring.

Loki nuzzles Thor's cock like he's a cat staking its claim. And he might be. He runs his cheeks over it, and his jaw, and the bottom of his chin. The day-old stubble on Loki's skin is vicious, but it will make the wet silk of his tongue feel even sweeter. His hands move over Thor's skin in a way that speaks only of comfort and tenderness, long strokes that weave from the fronts of his thighs to the peaks of his hips, around his waist and down his behind, briefly circling the curves there before sliding along the backs of the legs and squeezing them. Then the circuit begins again, or reverses.

Loki is tapping little kisses over Thor's cock, dotting the skin with damp presses from his lips that are growing longer and wetter as they go on. He sucks the skin into his mouth and slides his tongue over it before releasing it, and Thor feels his body warp and snap back into itself, distorted by Loki's gravity as he makes passes around Thor's prick. And then he's laying long loose kisses on the crown of Thor's cock, and his hands have settled on Thor's ass and are urging it closer, and Thor is pushing his hips forward and his shoulder blades back while Loki's lips spread around him in a tight ring, sliding toward his fur.

Loki takes his time, lingering in a slow rhythm that has him pulling back to the slit of Thor's prick and then gliding in to the base every six seconds. He increases the pace as slowly as he can manage.

Thor hums and twirls his fingers through Loki's hair. He wants to grab two fistfuls of it and fuck into Loki's pretty mouth, but then it would all be over. He tries to breathe. Loki is finally moving swiftly enough that Thor can feel the tension rising in his body. Winding him up.

Wet sounds - smacking, sucking, slurping – reach his ringing ears. Loki's breath puffs hot over Thor's cock and down his thighs. Thor can't stop the whimpers he always makes when he gets close. His voice is so deep they sound like groans, but Thor knows they're nothing of the sort. He comes, and Loki buries his nose in blond curls and waits, feeling semen trickle out onto his tongue in tiny spurts while Thor gasps and strokes his hair affectionately.

This always fills Loki with fondness. The helplessness of it. How the motions that spill seed from Thor's body are involuntary. How they're meant to send some part of Thor into the future. The optimism of it. The fragility. The delicacy of these organs. Loki loves to kiss Thor's cock when it's too sleepy for sex. To take it into his mouth and hold it there, safe in his skull, cradled by the boneless flesh of his tongue. To watch the swirling skin of the scrotum and find it cool against his fingertips. To lay his head in his brother's lap and stare at the soft curves nestled between his legs.

They drag themselves upstairs, switching off lights and checking the locks on doors.

They've slipped back into their old routine in the bathroom. Loki brushes his teeth while Thor showers and then they swap and Loki uses all the hot water.

They realized in college that showering together, while not without its virtues (running your hands over a warm, sudsy, gloriously naked man is, indeed, a pleasure), is ultimately inconvenient. There was barely room for them before, and now that Thor's even bigger, it's just too crowded. And they both realized right away that shower sex is awful. Water is not a lubricant. It just washes away all the spit or conditioner that you are using as lube. It also sprays in your eyes and gets up your nose. The latter becomes a problem if your mouth is full of cock. And shower sex always ends in bruises: bathtubs are full of hard surfaces – tile, steel fixtures, enamel – they're an accident waiting to happen.

And there's a special peace in showering, and a ritual to it. A partner throws a wrench in the works.

They snuggle into bed, naked and soft.

“Should we set alarms?” Thor asks.

“Shit. Probably,” Loki sighs, reaching for his phone on the nightstand and pecking at the screen. “Eight thirty okay?”

“Yeah,” Thor says. “You want me to set one too, in case you sleep through yours?”

“I got myself to work just fine for the last five years, thank you very much,” Loki teases, and Thor's face goes blank.

“Well, I wouldn't know, would I?” Thor says, and rolls away onto his back.

Loki's heart beats a frantic tattoo of oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit in his breast.

“Thor?” Loki whispers, reaching to squeeze his brother's shoulder. “I didn't mean to-”

“I know you didn't,” Thor sighs. “But it still hurts like hell.”

“I don't know what to do,” Loki admits.

“Neither do I. I think it's just going to take time. Things are going to suck for a while, sweetheart, there's no way around it.”

“Can't we just leave it behind us?”

“It is behind us. But... it changed who we are. We're not twenty-two. Five years of misery won't go away overnight. When you left... it made me doubt what came before it. I knew how much I loved you and I never could have left you. So, when you left me, I thought you must never have loved me... but then I'd remember the night you told me you were in love with me and I couldn't doubt that. So the thoughts just circled through my head in this awful stalemate. For years. Nothing made sense. I didn't trust myself. Or you. And I mourned this. Mourned us. I told myself this was over.”

“Did it work?” Loki whispers, voice thin with fear.

“No,” Thor soothes, rolling onto his side again and scooping Loki closer with his arms and his right leg. “But it's never going to be what it was. Because now I know you can leave me. And you know I can let you go.”

“I was miserable,” Loki says.

“So was I.”

“I never stopped loving you. It was never what I wanted. It was just... I thought it was for your own good.”

“I know you did. But you were wrong... and then I was wrong, too.”

“That's why I'm not doing it again,” Loki stresses.

“Me neither,” Thor agrees. “But we can never undo it.”

“I'm sorry,” Loki whispers, burying his head under Thor's chin.

“Shhh,” Thor soothes, rubbing his back. “Me too.”

They lie there, leaking tears onto their pillows and gulping in wavering breaths while they calm each other with strokes of their hands up and down the lengths of their spines.

“Do you know what kintsugi is?” Thor murmurs.

“No,” Loki says, and his voice is both muffled and amplified by the hollow of Thor's throat.

“It's this Japanese technique for mending broken ceramics. But they don't try to hide the break with matching lacquer - they highlight it with gold.”

“What silver-lining can you possibly see in this? We lost five years.”

“Now I know what it's like to lose you. And I know I don't ever want to do it again. I know your depression still gets you sometimes, so I'm going to have to watch you. We know how to have our own lives. We found good jobs. We found our way back. We've been lucky.”

“Feels more like polishing a turd,” Loki says, and they giggle.

They lie still a moment and sag into the bed and each other. Then Thor feels Loki's muscles tense slightly.

“Speaking of having our own lives... do you want me to find my own house?” Loki asks.

“No. But if you want to, then you should do it.”

“No,” Loki says, shaking his head. “I like this. I dreamed of this. I don't want us to lose even more time by traveling back and forth. And it would be hard to explain why your truck was in my driveway every night.”

“Shit,” Thor laughs. “Yeah, that would be a mess.”

“Can I help with the house payment?”

“It's paid off.”

“Utilities and property taxes, then?”

“If you want to,” Thor shrugs.

Loki nods.

Loki's hours assisting the new editor taper off as she gets into the swing of things. He's able to devote more time to writing. His agent is going to love him for it. She's been after him to quit his job and write full time for over two years now, but Loki didn't feel safe. Didn't trust that the bottom wasn't going to fall out from under him. The editing work was reliable, whereas the success of his next novel was never guaranteed. He was still in the habit of pretending the money in his bank account was going to have to last him for the rest of his life, so he was cautious and thrifty.

Thor comes up at noon and kisses Loki's cheek.

“What do you want for lunch?” Thor asks.

“I... um... shit. Give me a second I want to finish...  fuck. I forgot where I was going with this sentence. Fuck. Goddammit, Thor.”

“Sorry,” Thor murmurs.

“It's okay,” Loki sighs, and climbs out of his seat. “If it was any good it'll come back to me. Let's just have soup. If I eat too much I'll be sleepy and I won't get anything done this afternoon.”

“'Kay.”

Thor doesn't come up to fetch Loki for dinner, fearing he'll distract his brother again.

The scent of the rolls and stew Thor is making brings Loki downstairs anyway.

That night they spoon up together in bed and start to drift, calmed by the familiar scents and textures of each other's skin.

“Did the sentence I interrupted ever come back to you?” Thor asks.

“No,” Loki sighs, “But that just means it wasn't essential.”

“Shit. I'm sorry. Would you like me to start packing up lunch and leaving it in the fridge for you?”

“No, I want to eat with you. We should set a time or something.”

“I try to eat at noon. But sometimes I'm in the middle of a weld and I don't like to stop.”

“Hmmm,” Loki murmurs. “We could plan on noon, and then if we know we won't be able to make it, we could text each other.”

“That might work. What about dinner?” Thor asks.

“Plan for six, text to reschedule or decline?”

“Sounds good,” Thor nods. “And If I'm not there by five after noon or five after six, assume I lost track of time, or got in over my head, and I won't be coming.”

“Likewise,” Loki says. “And, in that case, I'll make two meals and wrap yours up.”

“I'll do the same,” Thor agrees, and squeezes the bony body in his arms.

  
  


2 Coffee

 

On Sunday, Loki wakes up at noon to the scent of coffee. Thor has always been better at getting out of bed on the weekends than Loki has.

He pulls on some of Thor's pajamas – he's been sleeping naked for years, so he doesn't actually own any - and ambles down the stairs, hair in messy waves, cheeks creased from the pillow. He hears his brother's laughter.

“Thor,” Loki calls, “Are you laughing at Snape's jokes? You know the punchline is always 'chocolate starfish.'”

Loki rounds the corner to the kitchen and freezes.

Sif's eyes go wide and then hard and she's out of her chair before Thor can stop her.

Loki hears his brother shouting, “Don't!” and then Loki is on his ass, trying to get his arms in front of his face. He feels the floorboards shake under him with his brother's footsteps and then everything is still and bright – there's no longer a body above him blocking the light and raining fists down on him, jostling his form.

Thor has both of Sif's arms up behind her back and he's slightly to her side where she can't kick him or stomp on him.

“Promise you won't touch him if I let you go,” Thor says.

“Fine,” Sif snarls, gorgeous and furious.

Thor scoops his dazed and bleeding brother up off the floor and leads him to a kitchen chair. He wraps ice in a dish towel and wets it and puts it in Loki's hand, guiding it to the bruise forming on his cheek.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Thor asks.

“Eleven,” Loki jokes, and Thor huffs a tiny laugh of relief.

“I'm serious.”

“Three.”

“Is your neck okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to take you to the doctor,” Thor murmurs.

“No. They'll think you did it. I'm fine - just wasn't expecting it.”

Thor checks over Loki's arms and pulls up the sleeves of his t-shirt – technically Thor's t-shirt -  checking for bruises. Nothing too bad.

He sits next to Loki and lets out a shaky breath.

“I'm okay,” Loki reassures. “Come on, we gave each other worse in high school.”

“Yeah, but now we're old and rickety.”

“Speak for yourself.”

They sit, listening to each other's breathing as it slows and watching the pulses beat in each other's throats.

“Where did she go?” Loki asks after a minute.

“Probably upstairs to wash your face out of her knuckles.”

“What?” Loki gasps, standing and being stopped by Thor's arms. “Oh God. I left the bedroom door open. Both the bedroom doors open. My bed's covered in books and papers. Thor, she's going to know I wasn't in it.”

“Shhh. It's okay, hon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sweetie, she figured it out five years ago.”

Loki goes still and then tries to stand up again but Thor holds him down in the chair.

“Thor, you need to let me up,” Loki chokes. “Take me to the sink. Thor, right now.”

Thor does as Loki asks and Loki vomits bile into the drain before turning the water on with a shaking hand and bending to drink from the tap. He gargles and spits until his mouth tastes like nothing again, then stays there panting and weeping for a full minute.

“How?” Loki asks, turning to face his brother. “How did she figure it out if she didn't catch us in the act?”

“Because she saw what a fucking mess I was,” Thor answers. “For months, Loki. If it looks like a break-up and it cries like a breakup and it can't get out of bed on weekends like a break-up, it's probably a fucking break-up.”

“We're twins,” Loki says slowly, as though he's speaking to an idiot, and he's beginning to think he might be. “You could have explained it that way. She couldn't know if you didn't tell her.”

“She asked how long you and I had been together-”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” Loki shouts. “And you fell for it. You answered and confirmed it. How could you be so stupid?”

“We have to trust people, Loki.”

“Why?”

“We need allies. We can't do this alone.”

“We're not alone,” Loki says.

“You know what I mean. We have to be able to let our guard down around our friends, or they're not really our friends. They have to know who we are.”

“It's too dangerous.”

“Be optimistic,” Thor pleads.

“It's too risky.”

“It's a chance we'll have take.”

“It's Russian roulette!”

Loki's mind is reeling. He feels trapped. And he can't get away. He wishes for a car, or a bicycle. A horse would be nice – dramatic. But he promised Thor he wouldn't leave him again, and he doesn't actually want to leave Thor... he just needs peace. Quiet.

Sif comes back down and Loki keeps as far from her as he can while he makes his way upstairs. He can hear her talking with his brother.

“What the hell is he doing here?” she asks.

“I was in the hospital and-”

“What? When?”

“New Year's day.”

“What happened?”

“Fell when I was running. Knocked myself out and got hypothermia.”

“Jesus, why the fuck didn't you tell me?” Sif asks and Thor sighs.

“I've been... We've been... He came back.”

“Yeah, thanks, I can see that,” Sif sighs. “But for how long, Thor? How long until he does it again?”

“He won't,” Thor insists.

“How do you know?”

“Because he...” Thor sighs, and pushes his hair back. “Look, these things aren't just mine to tell.”

“Your life is yours, Thor, he doesn't own you. You don't owe him anything. Especially not after what he did.”

“It's not that simple.”

“He left you. He's an idiot. You deserve better. We've been over this.”

“I'm not going to talk about this when he can't participate. Where is he?”

Sif shrugs.

“Did he go out the back?”

“I don't think so.”

They find the back door still locked so they go upstairs. They peek into both the bedrooms, but they're empty. He isn't in the bathroom, either.

Thor thinks of how angry his brother was - shaking, crying, vomiting, screaming. He remembers that Loki left him in part because he was afraid someone would find out about them. He realizes that another one of Loki's worst fears has just come true. He remembers the attic. And the windows. And how far it would be to fall.

He looks.

The door to the attic is open.

“Oh God,” Thor gasps.

Thor takes the stairs two at a time, shouting his brother's name, Sif at his heels.

They burst into the room and stop.

“'O ye of little faith,'” Loki murmurs.

He's standing in the middle of the room, holding Thor's pajama bottoms up with one hand. He's taken the drawstring out and is twirling it beside him with his other hand. Snape is rolling around on his back, batting at the cotton cord, attacking it and tugging on it and kicking it to death.

“I haven't forgotten my promises,” Loki says, and Thor lets out a shaky breath.

“If we go make breakfast will you come down and have some?” Thor asks, and Loki nods.

Sif scrambles eggs while Thor flips pancakes.

Loki looks at himself in the mirror. His left cheekbone is purple. His lower lip is split. He checks to make sure none of his teeth are loose and breathes a sigh of relief when they don't budge. He can feel achy welts under his hair when the bristles of his brush pass over them. He washes his face and puts ointment on his cuts and scrapes, but he doesn't hide them under bandages and he doesn't cover the bruising with concealer, his logic being Fuck you, Sif – you can look at your handiwork while you eat your breakfast and Thor can remember what an asshole you were.

He does get dressed, though. He feels naked and tiny in his brother's enormous pajamas. Feels far too young. And, anyway, the drawstring is soaked in cat spit.

He puts on charcoal trousers, argyle socks, and a bright white sweater with a thick cowl neck. It gathers his hair in a way he likes and makes his skin look almost tan in comparison. He suspects Thor will like the way it frames the base of his throat.

Loki comes down and Thor is setting the table. When he sees Loki he comes up and hugs him and puts his hands on Loki's shoulders. Takes his chin in his hand and turns his head from left to right, looking long and hard at the injuries scattered over his features. Thor is frowning.

“Everything okay?” Thor murmurs.

“Yeah,” Loki nods, and Thor hugs him again and kisses his right cheek, which is injury-free. “Thor,” Loki chides at a whisper.

“It's okay,” Thor says, and kisses him once more before releasing him, moving to pull out a chair, and motioning for Loki to sit.

Thor puts Loki at the head of the table, himself on Loki's right, and Sif to his own right.

*********

After they graduated from college, Sif, Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg, and Thor rented a house together in Cleveland to save money. It was a three bedroom, so Hogun roomed with Fandral, Thor roomed with Sif, and Volstagg got his own room, being the only one in a serious relationship.

Volstagg was working as a freelance food critic, hoping to land a regular gig with a local magazine.

Fandral was working as a tailor in Cleveland Heights and making a decent living. In his free time he designed his own clothes and sold them in a number of independent shops throughout the Midwest and Northeast. When he first got started he made a few suits for Thor and asked that Thor pose for photos in them to use in his portfolio. Odin volunteered to take the pictures, having long admired the photography in Frigga's fashion magazines. Thor got to keep the suits and they were a life-saver when he had to go to gallery openings and interviews.

Sif and Hogun were opening their own gym, focusing on personal training, and it was going well, but it was a lot of money up front on top of student loans, so they didn't have much left at the end of the month for recreational pursuits. Or food.

Thor still had a decent amount of his college fund left and was debt free, so he offered to buy the groceries for Hogun and Sif if they'd cook dinner, which they were delighted to accept. Thor was working in Erik's shop all day and earning a living wage. He was making good connections in the art world. He stayed after his shift for four to five hours each night building his own sculptures in Erik's studio.

Sif watched Thor work himself ragged. Saw him wake in the morning with eyes red from tears and his mouth slack and down-turned with sadness that was so foreign to his features.

She was close with her own brother, and they went weeks – even months – without talking and it was fine. If they fought, it was about something petty and lasted twenty minutes and then they teased each other about it for years afterward.

Loki and Thor didn't have inheritance or any of the usual bullshit to be fighting about. And Thor wasn't angry or calling lawyers or complaining. He wasn't saying anything at all.

She begged Thor to tell her what was going on and he just said “I can't,” and the pieces finally slid into place in her mind.

It took her a few days to be able to think about it in a remotely dispassionate way, but when she did, it occurred to her that Thor must feel like he's the only one in the world, alone with this secret. So, that night, while they were lying in their beds, and she heard Thor's bed creak as he tossed and turned, she took a deep breath and said it.

“How long were you and Loki together?"

And Thor could have played dumb and said, “All our lives, Sif, we're twins,” but instead he said, “Since we were seventeen.”  And she climbed into his bed and curled up behind him while his body was wracked with sobs. When he finally calmed down she asked him what happened and they stayed up all night talking in the orange glow of streetlights that filtered through their windows.

And the funny part for Thor was that it didn't make him feel any better. It was almost worse. Because this was why Loki had left him. Fear of being found out. And someone found out. And she didn't mind. And it was like proof that Loki had left for nothing, or left because he didn't love Thor anymore. Thor told himself to take comfort in the fact that at least Sif still liked him, and that, if he got smashed by a meteor or hit by a bus tomorrow, there would be one person in the world who loved him for who he really was.

*********

Thor keeps breakfast pleasant with small talk and brushes of his foot against Loki's toes under the table.

Afterward, they sit in the living room. Thor and Loki take the couch and Sif sits across from them in a chair, interrogating Loki. Thor holds Loki's hand and feels like a referee.

“Why did you really leave him?” Sif asks.

“Because I really didn't want someone to find out he was fucking his brother and bash his head in.”

“Why didn't you talk to him about it? It's his life too. Why didn't you give him any say in it?”

“Why didn't I give him the option of risking his life? I can't imagine.”

“Then why the hell are you here? What's different?” Sif shouts.

Loki takes a deep breath. Thor thinks about how Loki's speech changes when he feels threatened. How he becomes precise and formal. Distant.

“In a way, nothing's different,” Loki admits. “I did it because I love him. I stopped doing it for the same reason. I'm pessimistic. Negative. Depressed. I assume and prepare for the worst. And worst case scenario was that Thor could die because he loved me. And there were plenty of other charming possibilities: Thor could hear whispers behind his back everywhere he went for the rest of his life. Have his windows smashed every few weeks. Have things thrown at him. Lose his job. Be under constant strain. Have to move from city to city and hope the news hadn't followed him. Or preceded him. Live in fear. Everyone he knew could turn on him. Turn on our parents."

“The same could have happened to you,” Sif points out. “Why weren't you worried about that?”

“Depressed people tend not to see their lives as very valuable,” Loki says, dryly.

“I've noticed,” Sif says, sinking back in her chair and looking sad. “All those things could still happen. How am I supposed to believe you won't leave him again?”

“I promised him I wouldn't.”

“How do I know you'll keep that promise?”

“When we were seventeen I promised him I wouldn't attempt suicide again. And I haven't. I'm still here.”

Sif goes silent at this for a moment. Thor never told her, Loki realizes. So he can keep some secrets after all.

“Why'd you change your mind?”

“He almost died-”

“I was fine,” Thor interjects.

“The hell you were. If that car hadn't passed by you would have frozen to death,” Loki scolds, before turning to Sif once more. “I almost lost him for nothing. I'm not going to throw everything away for trouble that might never come. If we're lucky, we've still got sixty years left together. I'm not going to be the one to piss them away.”

“You guys have to be more careful,” She says. “The beds upstairs-”

“Fuck. I know,” Loki groans.

“You've gotta clear off the guest bed and rumple the blankets,” Sif says.

“I know. I will. I didn't know you were coming,” Loki sighs, then turns to Thor. “Did you know she was coming?”

“Yeah, I invited her,” Thor says, as though that makes it better.

“I'm going to strangle you,” Loki murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose between pale fingers.

“Jesus, Thor. So, really, you're the one who has to be more careful,” Sif says.

Thor sighs.

“Maybe everyone finds out and they hate us and we run,” Thor says. “Maybe everyone finds out and nobody cares. Maybe just one person finds out and she doesn't mind. Regardless, I'm not losing him.”

“Jesus, I think I'm with Loki on this one,” Sif says. “Assume the worst, and figure out how to avoid it.”

“Any tips?” Loki asks.

“Keep doing whatever you did in high school,” Sif says. “And play the twin card.”

“Yeah, that's a lifesaver,” Loki agrees

Sif takes a deep breath and groans.

“I don't care if it's only two pm, please tell me you guys have beer in the fridge,” she says, and Thor nods.

“Help yourself.”

She comes back with three bottles and they sit, relaxing with their drinks and digesting their thoughts. Snape hops onto the back of the couch and wedges himself between the cushion and Thor's shoulders, snapping his tail around and sticking fur to Thor's lips. Sif collects their empty beer bottles and comes back with more full ones. Loki's brain compares the sounds of the two sets of bottles clinking together. He prefers the way the notes deepen and bounce as they pass through the full bottles. He remembers the movie The Warriors and tries not to giggle.

“How many ulcers do you guys have?” Sif boggles. “I can't even imagine how stressful this is.”

Thor just shrugs and Loki and Sif roll their eyes.

“It was worse to think about in New York, in a way,” Loki says. “It's so dense. You have so little privacy. Shared walls, floors, ceilings, hallways, lobbies, sidewalks. I forgot that's not how it is everywhere. Here there's so much more space... but there's also our parents. And it'll be hardest to hide it from them as years go on. I've been here almost two weeks and I haven't told them I'm home.”

“What do you think they'd do?” Sif asks

Loki shakes his head and thinks for a while, running his hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“If Mom and Dad found out, they'd probably think they'd done something wrong. And if anyone else found out, they'd think Mom and Dad fucked up. And they didn't. They were perfect. I mean, Jesus, the worst thing Dad ever did was spank us when he caught us playing with the knobs on the stove... and that barely even hurt. It stung for about a second and then I was so ashamed and stunned and felt like such a fucking idiot... and, God, was he mad. And frightened. The noise he made when he saw us and realized what we were doing...”

“I know,” Thor nods. “It's never left my mind.”

“Is it completely insane that I have enormous affection for that moment?” Loki asks. “Getting my pants yanked down in the kitchen and having my ass slapped while Dad held the back of my shirt like it was the scruff of my neck... and you tried to run, but he got you.”

The brothers are both laughing.

“And it's a good thing, too,” Loki continues. “Because I would have been pissed if he'd let you go. And then he sent us to our rooms, but we both went to yours, and we pouted and cried until Mom came up to calm us down. But she was biting her lips and shaking, trying not to laugh at us - and we knew it - and we started wailing again and told her to leave us alone-”

“I think our exact words were 'weave us awone,'” Thor chuckles.

“And that made her laugh even harder,” Loki finishes.

They lose their breath giggling at themselves and slowly sober while Sif smiles and shakes her head.

“And it worked,” Thor murmurs. “We didn't touch the stove again until Mom actually asked us to do it when she went back to work and wanted help with dinner.”

“And Dad couldn't have handled it better, I think. It was like the most crazy and perfect version of, 'I love you, you stupid little shits,' he ever could have uttered.”

“I know,” Thor laughs. “That, and the time he exploded when we went running after the high winds.”

Loki nods.

“Christ, I'd have taken the spanking again over the yelling,” Loki says. “It was a masterful spanking. No force in his arm. He just snapped his wrist and it was like being whipped with a towel.”

“It's almost a shame we only got the one,” Thor laughs. “He didn't get a chance to practice his art.”

Loki giggles.

“And Mom's a fucking saint. Period,” Thor says.

“Amen,” Sif agrees.

“I know,” Loki nods. “She has never once made us feel weird, and God knows we are. We were, like, textbook creepy twins. We had our own language, for fuck's sake. And she never batted an eye at what a flaming pair of gaymos we were. Never discouraged our iffy career choices...”

“I remember when she told us about sex,” Thor says. “She left no stone unturned. I think she knew we were gay before we did.”

Loki nods.

“I don't think I've ever blushed harder in my life,” Thor groans.

“God, I know. The things she told us about hadn't even occurred to me yet. Even with the internet.”

The three of them dissolve into laughter.

And Loki realizes how much he's missed this. He hasn't had it in so long he forgot what it was like. Being relaxed. Being open. Being himself. With someone other than his brother. He had wanted to hate Sif, but he can't. Because she loves Thor, and it motivates her to do stupid things from time to time, and God knows he's guilty of that. And in a way, he's grateful. If they were going to fuck up and leave the guest bed made and buried in books, they couldn't have asked for a better witness.

Thor makes popcorn and they all go downstairs to watch Howl's Moving Castle. Thor thinks of his brother as some strange mix of Howl - pale and beautiful, crippled by fear and self-doubt – and Calcifer - bursting with creative energy.

After Sif goes home, Loki moves his papers and books off the bed in the guest room, pulls the blankets back, and punches a dent in the center of the pillow as though someone has slept there. He runs his fingers through his hair and leaves the loose strands on the pillowcase for good measure.

They have a lazy dinner of leftovers.

“Do you have any wine?” Loki asks.

“No, sorry. I have a bottle of champagne, though. I was going to drink it on New Year's Eve, but then I forgot what day it was and I split my head open. Want me to put it outside?”

“Yeah,” Loki laughs.

Thor sets the bottle out on the front steps while Loki closes all the curtains and clears the table.

“What kind of wine do you like?” Thor asks, and then types Loki's answers into his phone.

He puts Nights in White Satin on the stereo and grabs Loki for a dance.

“Oooo,” Loki purrs. “This is such a good one. I didn't fully appreciate it until I was about twenty-four. When I was little I always pictured knights, with a K, wearing armor made of white satin. Like that was what knights wore when they went on dates.”

Thor laughs into his brother's hair, then picks him up and spins him through the room. Loki wraps his arms around Thor's neck and his legs around Thor's waist and clings to him until the song is over and Thor deposits them on the couch. They lie there and nuzzle each other.

“You look tired,” Thor murmurs, and Loki snorts.

“I woke up, got my ass kicked, puked, talked to a woman I haven't seen in almost a decade about how I'm sleeping with her best friend, who happens to be my twin brother, and I never got the fucking cup of coffee I came down here for in the first place.”

Thor giggles.

“I'll go check the champagne.”

Thor comes back in and Loki hears crystal tinkling and the pop of a cork, then the sizzling glug glug glug of drinks being poured.

He sits up and takes his flute. Thor clinks them together.

“Happy New Year,” Thor smiles, and Loki kisses him.

They finish off the bottle and head upstairs.

“That sweater is gorgeous on you,” Thor says. “I'm going to call you Sweater Meat from now on.”

“In that case I'll be calling you Blue Balls.”

Thor snorts.

“Do you care if I take a bath?” Loki asks. “My apartment didn't have a bathtub.”

“I'll draw you one.”

“Do you want a shower first?”

“I didn't get dirty today,” Thor shrugs.

Loki tugs off his clothes and follows his brother. Thor shuts the bathroom door to hold in the heat and sits on the toilet lid, watching the water rise.

“Lifeguard on duty?” Loki asks, tying his hair up in a sloppy bun.

“Nope, I'm just a pervert.”

“Excellent,” Loki says as he steps into the bath.

He groans as he sinks into the water. Thor lets the tub fill to Loki's armpits.

“How's your head?” Thor asks, reaching into the bath.

“Lumpy.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Just the cheek.”

Thor nods and fishes one of Loki's feet out of the tub, soaping and kneading it, following the leg up to the knee and then setting it back in the water and reaching for the other foot.

Loki stares at him. Thor's hair is falling in front of his face. His sleeves are rolled up but he's getting them all wet anyway. His face is relaxed. The light in the room is making him glow, bouncing off of the water and diffusing in the steam.

Thor moves to sit on the edge of the tub and does Loki's arms and armpits, then nudges him forward to wash his back.

“Turn over and get on your hands and knees for me,” Thor says.

The tub squeaks and water sloshes as Loki complies. Thor soaps his thighs and belly before reaching beneath him to carefully wash his cock, and Loki hums. Thor swirls the soap in his hand and then slots his fingers into the cleft of Loki's ass, slowly following it down. He rubs back and forth over Loki's hole in long slow strokes.

Loki's spine sags. His head drops. He stays there.

Thor's hands leave for a moment and Loki hears the click of a plastic bottle being flicked open. Thor's hands come back slippery with conditioner. His left returns to Loki's ass, his right snakes down to Loki's cock. Thor strokes and rubs in tandem until Loki is keening and thrusting into his fist, grunting as his come splashes into the bath and vanishes in the water.

Loki flops back down and rests, letting the water bear the weight of his wasted limbs. Thor waves his hands back and forth in the bath to rinse off the conditioner and then gets up to fetch a pitcher from the cabinet.

Loki sighs and nods and takes Thor's offered arm as he climbs to his feet. Thor pulls the plug and fills the pitcher with warm water. They listen to the drain gurgling while Thor rinses Loki's skin.

Thor brushes his teeth and leaves to undress while Loki dries off. He stands, wrapped in his towel and thinking, while he brushes his own teeth.

Loki ambles into the bedroom with another one of his old bath towels over his arm. He lays it in the center of the bed beside his brother and lies down on it.

“What are you up to?” Thor asks, turning onto his side and propping himself up on one elbow.

“I'd like to try it again,” Loki answers, hoping Thor knows what he means.

“It might not work,” Thor says. “And, even if it does, you might hate it.”

“That's okay,” Loki says. “I want to try, and if it doesn't work I want to keep trying.”

“All right, but if you don't like something, you stop me. Likewise if anything hurts, or seems like it's going to start hurting. You want something, you tell me. More lube, more tongue, more pressure, whatever. You drive, 'kay?”

Loki nods and pulls Thor down for kisses. Thor smells like himself and it makes Loki feel at home.

“Any advice?” Loki murmurs.

“Yep. Hang on,” Thor says, and rolls away.

He turns up the thermostat and grabs lube, finger cots, and a box of tissues from his nightstand, setting them on the mattress by the headboard. Then he pulls the blanket up to their shoulders and climbs on top of Loki, resting on him and rubbing their noses together. Snape stomps away to sleep on a chair.

“Ready?” Thor asks, and Loki nods. “Stay warm so you don't tense up with the cold – keep the blankets on if you need to. Let me eat you out, and rub you, and finger you first for as long as you want. Remember to breathe. And bear down when you want to let me in, even though it seems backward.”

“Okay.”

They lie there, kissing. Thor is careful of Loki's split lip, not tugging it or stretching it. He concentrates his kisses on the right side of Loki's face where there aren't any injuries. And then he starts inching his way down Loki's body, lapping at his nipples and mouthing his ribs, nibbling the tender skin of his belly, disappearing beneath the blankets. He takes Loki's sleeping cock into his mouth and strokes it with his tongue before setting it back on Loki's stomach and placing an affectionate kiss at the base. He nuzzles Loki's balls gently and coaxes his legs up. He nips his way down Loki's left thigh, crosses the bend where it meets the body, and follows it across to the perineum. He presses a firm kiss there and then dips his tongue below it, dragging it over Loki's hole and making Loki twitch.

Thor loves this. Loki always loses his inhibitions when Thor's tongue is on his ass. He hums and wails and cheers. Thor gradually builds up the pressure with his tongue, getting Loki used to firmer touches, focusing them on his opening. Loki sighs and moans happily above him.

“Can I have your fingers now?” Loki pants.

“Yeah.”

Thor tugs finger cots on to protect Loki's skin from his calluses and nails. Loki kicks the blankets down now that the room has warmed. Thor kneels between long pale legs and drizzles lube onto Loki's anus, slowly spreading it with his fingertips.

“Can you do what you were doing in the bathtub again?” Loki asks.

“Mmmhmm,” Thor nods, and runs the the lengths of his fingers over Loki's entrance, knuckles bouncing and teasing. Loki hums and his legs sag wider. His breathing is slow and even.

“Circles, now,” Loki murmurs, and hums when Thor complies, running his fingertips around Loki's hole in expanding and contracting spirals.

“Let's try one,” Loki says.

“Push for me,” Thor coaxes, and his index finger disappears. "How's that?”

“Absurd,” Loki murmurs, and Thor chuckles.

“It is, isn't it?"

“Can we practice that for a minute?”

“Yeah,” Thor says, reaching for the lube and drizzling more onto Loki's opening, pushing it in.

Loki gets used to flexing when he wants to let Thor's finger through.

“I wanna try now,” Loki whispers, and Thor nods.

Thor cleans up his hand and then slicks his cock up more generously than could ever be necessary.

“Keep breathing and stay relaxed,” Thor says, lining up his hips and swirling the head of his cock over the crinkled divot of flesh between Loki's legs.

“Your skin's so smooth,” Loki sighs. “I'm ready when you are.”

“Bear down again for me. Harder than before.”

Loki grimaces slightly as he follows the direction. He feels a stretch and hears his brother let out a shaky breath.

“Thor?”

“I'm in. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Loki says, surprised to find it true. “You can try moving if you want.”

Thor nods and slowly shifts his hips back and forth.

“Fuck,” Thor breathes.

“You can stop if it hurts,” Loki says, and Thor shakes his head no.

“I'm gonna come.”

“Do it,” Loki urges, tipping his head up to watch.

Thor groans three times, stiffens, and gasps, and Loki wants to buy his anus a pony, or whatever it is assholes want these days.

Thor leans back and his cock slides free from Loki's body and Loki squeaks and giggles.

“You okay?” Thor pants, and Loki nods, grinning.

“It tickles.”

“I know,” Thor smiles. “Come on - let's get cleaned up.”

Thor seems to have this part down to a science, and Loki is grateful, because he's too tired to fumble through it on his own.

Thor turns the heat back down and they fall into bed and tangle themselves up in the middle, pulling the blankets into a heap around them.

“How's your butt?” Thor rumbles, and Loki laughs.

“Feels like it's had your cock in it.”

“Hmmm... that's so weird.”

“Isn't it?” Loki teases. “It feels fine.”

Thor nods and kisses him.

“I'm taking tomorrow off,” Loki murmurs.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

 

3 Moonlight

 

They stay in bed until the cat gets mad and then spend the day floating through their own heads and holding each other on the couch.

That night they go running together. On their way back, Thor sees the moon reflecting off of the attic window, like a fairy has a lantern hanging in the third floor of his house. He thinks of Loki running up there yesterday instead of running to the guest room. When they get inside Thor does an image search for “finished attic.”

“Come here,” Thor says, and Loki comes over with a glass of water for him.

“Thanks,” Thor smiles, then turns his laptop for Loki to see. “What if we made the attic into an apartment for you?”

Loki sits down and scrolls through the photos.

“Some of these are gorgeous,” Loki murmurs. “I'd like this. And if we hired someone to do it, it would be vaguely public knowledge that I had my own space in the house, which would be good for us.”

“I do want you to have a space that's yours,” Thor says. “Locks on the door and everything. I don't want to blunder in and fuck up your writing again.”

“Speaking of which,” Loki sighs. “I'm going to tell Mom and Dad about the whole Jordan Boone thing. That I'm coming home to write my ridiculous novels in peace and quiet. Maybe if I cough up one big secret they won't see the other one I'm smuggling out behind it. And if they press, I'll take Sif's advice and 'play the twin card.' Say I couldn't take being away from you. It's not a lie.”

Thor nods and they stay up late sifting through pictures to find an attic structurally comparable to theirs that Loki likes.

In the morning, Loki takes Thor's truck over to feed Selkie and Puca. It turns out Frigga is off, and she's delighted by the surprise visit. He cooks her breakfast and tells her he's home for good and he's been writing under a pseudonym for years. She's proud of his success and chides him for playing it down as silly. They spend the day grooming the horses and chatting and fixing dinner until Odin gets home and Loki repeats his news.

“Someone at work once asked me when I shot Jordan Boone and I had no idea what they were talking about,” Odin laughs.

Loki asks his parents to keep his secret, and they agree. Frigga asks if she can still brag about his poetry and he says that's fine.

Thor starts making calls about the attic. He has the heat and AC extended up there and has extra outlets and light fixtures installed. Has closets and drawers put along the edges of the roof where it gets too low to walk. He paints the walls white to make the light reflect. Sands the floors and finishes them with a honey colored stain. The rest he leaves up to Loki.

Loki turns it into a reasonable facsimile of his apartment in New York, but now he has a king bed, not a twin. And the whole space is far more roomy and bright. The windows have pretty curtains and don't look out onto bricks. He has large woven rugs. Paintings and weavings on the walls. He got a lovely sofa that's as much like the one in the basement as he could manage - big enough for he and Thor to lie down on together. A gorgeous desk with a good chair. Room to expand his wardrobe. Bookshelves.

The only unforeseen issue is with Snape, who loudly refuses to be locked out of Loki's apartment. Thor gets out his jigsaw and installs cat-doors.

The guest bedroom is freed up for guests.

The brother's lie on Loki's bed and stare up at the peaked ceiling over their head.

“Flowers in the Attic,” Loki teases.

“Gross. No.” Thor says. “That wasn't consensual.”

“Ew. Right.”

“I used to scour fiction and film for incest in college,” Thor murmurs.

“Me too,” Loki nods.

“I don't know what I thought I'd find.”

“I never found anything helpful,” Loki says. “So much of it ended so badly.”

“I know. I think Close My Eyes was the happiest ending I found,” Thor admits.

“When I read The Hotel New Hampshire I wanted to write John Irving a letter and tell him that you can't fuck yourself out of being in love with your sibling, and that I was willing to provide a demonstration,” Loki says.

They both giggle.

 

4 Shade

 

On an warm and sunny Sunday toward the end of spring, the brothers go running after they come back from Frigga's barn. They're dressed too warmly and they get hot, so they take a detour down a road lined with trees to escape from the sun.

At the end of a driveway they see a handwritten sign advertising “Turkey poults - $10 - raise your own Thanksgiving dinner!”

Thor watches Loki's head turn ninety degrees as they pass the sign and gets a sinking feeling.

When they get home, Loki is googling chicken coops, laying chickens, turkey poults, and turkey coops. When he gets a sketchbook out, Thor knows he's in trouble.

Thor's evenings for the next two weeks are spent at lumber yards, hardware stores, feed stores, and his woodshop.

They drive to a farm that has laying hens and return to the home down the road selling turkey poults.

Loki names the turkey Abe, because he is both beautiful and homely, and because Lincoln tried to get the country's shit together when it came to Thanksgiving.

He sits out back in a lawn chair on pleasant days, bending to scratch Abe's head, watching him peck bugs from the grass and eat the crumbs from Loki's lunch.

“How's your soul-mate?” Thor asks as the bird wanders around Loki's feet.

“Dandy,” Loki breezes, fingers clacking on his keyboard.

“You're both so devoted to pecking away at things,” Thor smiles, and then reaches to fuck up Loki's hair before going inside to make them some cocktails.

“Douche,” Loki calls.

Loki asks Frigga for advice on plants and then puts flowerbeds around Thor's house to attract rabbits and birds. Abe follows him around, eating the bugs and grubs stirred up by Loki's efforts.

When they go to feed the horses each morning Loki brings his turkey and Abe struts around gobbling up dandelion greens.

Loki gets a leash and harness and takes the bird for walks in town when Thor drives them to the farmers market.

Loki knows he looks ridiculous. He's counting on it.

When he first realized he wanted to take Abe on walks with him, he decided he needed a leash: he wanted to make sure his feathered friend couldn't dart out in front of a car if he got spooked.

I'm going to look like a lunatic, Loki thought. And then he smiled.

In addition to walking his turkey, Loki starts putting bright white zinc oxide sunblock on his nose like an 80s lifeguard. Wearing three piece suits everywhere - with a flower in his lapel and a pocket square – though if it's hot he leaves the jacket at home and just wears the waistcoat. He carries a white lace parasol on sunny days. He buys curlers at the beauty supply store to wear while he's gardening. He doesn't wear his suits while he's working in the yard. Instead, he wears jeans, a white t-shirt, leather boots, a belt, and a red windbreaker.

A neighbor who sees him like that while driving past Thor's house mentions it to Loki a week later at the grocery store.

“I saw you gardening the other day and almost didn't recognize you without your suit,” the man says.

“I didn't want to get it dirty, so I wore my James Dean costume,” Loki explains, and the man nods and smiles and thinks it's neat that they have an old-fashioned eccentric in their town. Loki is amused that the man never mentioned the curlers that had been in his hair.

Everyone thinks Loki is a little strange. And it occurs to them that he always was. Pale and skinny and quiet. Not a bit like his brother. They remember the local paper saying he'd won a scholarship to MIT to study writing when he finished high school, and that they had heard he moved to New York. “Ah, failed writer,” they nod. Isn't it sweet of Thor to look after his dotty brother, they think.

They have no idea how sweet it is.

The first time Thor saw Loki with his hair in curlers, his eyes went wide and he laughed.

They were big pink cylinders. Loki watched a dozen YouTube videos trying to figure out how to do it and he still fucked up half of them and had to redo them, spraying his hair constantly to keep it wet.

“It looks like your brain is trying to escape from your head,” Thor said, chuckling.

Loki slathered on sunblock and went out into the yard to fuss with his flower beds and chat with Abe while the sun dried his hair.

When Loki came back inside and took his curlers out, Thor wasn't laughing anymore.

He ran his hands over the shiny black ringlets and cupped them in his palms, then dragged his brother into the bedroom and went down on his back so that he could see the curls bounce and sway as Loki fucked him.

The busy season comes for Thor and he puts in long hours completing orders. Loki spends the extra time alone working his way through Thor's library.

He gets lost in the books and when he looks up, Thor is just there.

It occurs to Loki that his brother is impossibly graceful and quiet for such a large man.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Loki purrs, and Thor realizes his brother is flirting with him.

They never got to do that. Never needed to seduce each other. They missed out.

Thor flirts back.

Frigga babysits Snape and Abe to let the twins go to New York and Boston for a couple days here and there – to gallery openings for Thor's sculptures and jewelry and to book signings for Loki's poetry - and they can almost be themselves in the city because no one really notices them. Loki takes Thor to all his favorite places and introduces him to old coworkers.

“Why didn't you tell us your brother is gorgeous?” they ask.

“Slipped my mind,” Loki laughs. “If you'd like to move to rural Ohio he could be yours.”

They groan and say, “No deal.”

On clear nights they drag an old sleeping bag out into the backyard and lie down to watch the sky. In the dark they don't have to hide. They can kiss and cuddle and stare up at the milky way. Thor points out planets and traces the constellations with his fingers, and Loki tells him the myths attending those figures. Thor burrows under the sleeping bag and takes Loki's cock in his mouth. When Loki comes, the ground beneath him seems to dissolve, and there's nothing but Thor and the stars, and somehow that makes sense.

On nights when they're both tired they coat their cocks and thighs with lube and take turns sliding through the soft fleshy space between each other's legs. It quickly becomes their favorite thing to do. They can line their faces up and kiss. Wrap their arms around each other. They don't have to be careful or precise. They get to press more of their skin together – nobody has to put their ankles in the air. Sometimes they grind their cocks together until they're dizzy and spent. Or Thor reaches between them to fist both of their pricks in his long fingers until they soak their chests with come. Then Thor pulls Loki flush against him and crushes their breasts together, making a sticky mess of them both. They often fall asleep that way and have to peel themselves apart when they wake, reeking of sweat and semen.

When they're not tired they stay up late talking, like kids at a sleepover.

Thor will ask Loki how his depression is faring. Most of the time Loki says, “It's in remission.” At worst Loki cries because they're going to get old and it breaks his heart that he'll watch Thor fade. And on those days Thor holds him and shushes him and reminds him that, “That's the cost of living,” and Loki nods and kisses him and says, “It still sucks.”

“What are your guilty pleasures,” Loki asks one night, snuggling up under Thor's arm, both of them warm and boneless from exchanging blowjobs.

“I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Deal.”

“Ummm... Funyuns,” Thor begins.

“Ooooo, shameful,” Loki says. “Hello Panda. I'm a grown-ass man and I eat three bags in one sitting. The box lasts two days, max.”

“Cheetos,” Thor moans.

“Oh fuck. We should get some of those. And those goddamn Keebler Soft Batch cookies.”

“I forgot about those,” Thor admits. “Tremors. Just the first one.”

“Oh God, yeah,” Loki agrees. “Young Kevin Bacon. I want to go back in time and hit that. Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust.”

“I loved that one, too,” Thor says. “It reminded me of Edward Gorey. And it was so surreal. It's like it follows dream-logic. I was shocked when I found out it wasn't more popular.”

“I know. I thought it was fantastic. It's on my laptop. We should watch it.”

“Mmmm,” Thor agrees. “Adam Ant in his makeup when he was young.”

“Nice one. I want to say Keane, but I can never bring myself to feel guilty about them.”

“Do you still listen to them?”

“Yeah. Nothing's been as good as Hopes and Fears, but there's always at least one song on every album that kills me.”

“You listened to Sea Fog so many times it's burned into my brain. That shit haunts me. I bought the deluxe version of the album because I liked that bonus track that came after it, too,” Thor gripes.

Loki giggles.

“Early Sinéad O'Connor,” Thor says. “Her voice. Three Babies still gives me chills every time.”

“That part where she snarls, 'The face on you,'” Loki murmurs, nodding.

“Exactly. And she was so... strange. Fearless. Coltish and wild. Like a walking folktale. And those eyes.”

“Mmmm." Loki agrees. “I like to listen to that Destiny's Child song, Girl, and pretend Beyoncé is hitting on me at a bar.”

Loki's head bounces on Thor's shoulder as his brother laughs.

“What's amazing about that,” Thor says, after he has sobered, “is that it's simultaneously the most and least heterosexual thing you've ever said. You probably just tore a hole in spacetime with that shit.”

They giggle and settle into the blankets and pillows and their little web of harmless secrets and fall asleep almost as soon as their eyes close.

“Tell me your unapologetic hates,” Loki says, the next night, as Thor spoons close behind him.

“People chewing with their mouths open and smacking their lips.”

“The word 'lover,'” Loki shudders.

“Ugh, I know,” Thor groans. “It's like 'moist.'”

“Disgusting,” Loki agrees. “Most of the proper names of human anatomy. It's like they were trying to be unappealing. Full of whiny vowel sounds.”

“Bending a nail backwards.”

“Ew, yeah, that's awful. Being sick.”

“People who are mean to cashiers,” Thor grunts.

“American Pie. The song. It's like, 'Kiss the music industry's ass a little harder, Don McLean. Oh wait, you couldn't possibly.'”

“Confederate flags,” Thor growls.

“Oh, fuck, I know,” Loki groans. “It takes every ounce of my self control not to burn them when I see them. The only thought holding me back is that the fire could get out of hand and kill some kid... can't bring myself to give a shit about burning their parents, though. I mean, legally it would be problematic, but morally... I don't think my conscience would keep me up over a few incinerated racists-”

“Loki!” Thor yelps, burying his face in his brother's hair and shaking his head. “God, I shouldn't let you out of my sight, should I? I don't even want to think about what kind of trouble you're getting into when I'm in the shop, toiling.”

“I'll have you know I'm in my room. Toiling... and being a hater.”

Thor's laughter shakes the whole bed. Loki reaches back and pinches him. Thor bites Loki's ear.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Thor comes into Loki's room in the attic, fully clothed, when Loki is just waking up.

“What have you been up to?” Loki mumbles, tongue still slow and clumsy with sleep. “I didn't even feel it when you got up. Why are you dressed? Jesus, why are you even awake? We're on vacation.”

“I took Abe over to Phil Lewis's. He said he'd be happy to handle the butchering for us.”

“What?” Loki gasps, bolting up in bed. “No, you have to call him and tell him to stop. Thor, quick.”

Loki is starting to cry and Thor is just sitting there.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Call him!” Loki screams, and Thor's eyes go wide.

“Loki, I was kidding. I thought that was obvious.”

Loki falls back on the bed and covers his face with his hands, pulse practically vibrating in his veins.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck. You fucking asshole. I hate you. God, you bastard.”

Thor laughs

“It's not funny.”

“Oh, come on.” Thor says. “I can't believe you thought I killed Abe – I'm offended – I'm the one who should be pissed.”

“Well, it was the original plan,” Loki sniffles.

“Pffff, please. He was never going to be dinner. You spent twenty minutes picking him out of a sea of chicks and chose him because he was 'such a sweetheart.' You walk him like a dog. You bring him in the house and put him in a kid's playpen on cold nights even though the coop is heated. You let him sit on your lap-”

“I thought I could do it,” Loki whines. “It sounded so good... in theory.”

“You're in love with the chickens, too.”

“They give us eggs.”

“Exactly. Not meat. And their coop is nicer than most houses.”

“You built it.”

“To your specifications.”

“You're an enabler.”

“Have you even noticed that we haven't eaten poultry since spring?”

Loki scowls.

“We haven't eaten any meat at all,” Loki says, just realizing it.

“I like cows and pigs,” Thor murmurs, defensive and shy. “And it's good for the environment.”

Loki snorts.

“So what were you doing downstairs with clothes on?”

“Delivery from our good friends at CVS.com.”

“Ooooo... lube,” Loki croons, and then he makes Thor earn his forgiveness for such a rude awakening.

They show up to their parents' house with three kinds of quiche for Thanksgiving dinner, and Odin and Frigga smirk and say they knew there wouldn't be any turkey.

And Thor makes sculptures inspired by Loki's hair, and jewelry inspired by his skin. And the heroes and heroines in Loki's novels have his brother's virtues, and the gods in his poetry have hair of gold and eyes of ice. And people feel bad for Thor because he's stuck caring for his spacey sibling in the prime of his life. But when they ask Thor if it bothers him he smiles and shakes his head and says, “No, of course not - he's my brother.” And everyone understands.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please don't comment or repost.


End file.
